


Femme Fatale

by The_Fictionist



Series: AU Twists [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Genderbending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-03
Updated: 2014-06-03
Packaged: 2018-02-03 07:49:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1736924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Fictionist/pseuds/The_Fictionist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Tamsin Riddle never understood how women were supposed to be soft.   If the world wanted its girls soft and delicate, unfurling like lovely flower petals in the sun, then the world should make it significantly easier not to be a man. "</p>
<p>How would a female Tom Riddle face the challenges of Slytherin and Hogwarts?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Femme Fatale

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the tumblr prompt from LaughingMad. A one-shot focusing on a gender-flipped Tom taking over Slytherin back in her Hogwarts days; I’m just interested in a female Riddle concept-wise. Including Harry would be nice, but you don’t have to if you feel it’d clutter the oneshot.

Tamsin Riddle never understood how women were supposed to be _soft._

If the world wanted its girls soft and delicate, unfurling like lovely flower petals in the sun, then the world should make it significantly easier not to be a man.

To survive womanhood required steel. It required manicuring her nails to claws, and growing strong to protect herself.

First year, she learnt to carve her words like daggers, so that they had to listen to what she said, instead of watching the way her mouth moved or just not listening at all.

Nice girls, from all she had seen, didn't get very far. Tamsin disliked limitations, and refused to be caged by the necessities of a good reputation.

So it was probably just as well that she had never been a nice girl.

… And yet, as she saw Harriet Potter turning away to another, purer, table, for a moment she wished she was.

* * *

By second year, Tamsin had a smile so sweet that it rotted her opponents from the inside out, to dust. If they wanted sugar and spice, then she would sprinkle the pristine pieces of herself with shards of glass until she sparkled like the finest frosting.

She understood that power was everything, and that the only way a lady could be considered on the level of a lord was if she had double the strength.

They would cut themselves for the audacity of touching.

Being equal was not enough.

And she would satisfy herself with watching a dimpled, too-bright smile that was directed to someone who wasn't her.

* * *

Tamsin never understood why girls were supposed to chase after a rich and loving husband – when love was worthless, and relying on the wealth of others sickened her.

By third year, she'd ensnared them in their disgusting lusts, and begun to destroy them for being so arrogant as to underestimate her. She played with their hearts and their minds, and let them believe that they were so generous as to _help_ her – as if she would ever need their assistance at all. But people loved to do a girl a favour, and she'd learnt how to barter whilst they still sucked on their entitlement like overgrown infants.

She saw those kiss-red lips and that short, windswept hair, messy like a boy's, after Gryffindor beat Slytherin for the Quidditch Cup, and something grew hot and possessive in her chest.

And she wanted more.

* * *

Tamsin understood why women were prized for giving life, but by fourth year she had vowed to show them all just how well she could offer death.

Murder was not the sole domain of men, but she could be as patient as the snakes that spawned her and be 'good' enough to stand aside. The men could go and die in their ridiculous wars; _she_ would quietly craft the poison in her heart until it could be weaponized.

She would be Medusa. She had snakes on her tongue, instead of in her hair, but to have the world bow at her feet in fear of ever meeting her gaze seemed a most gratifying thing.

But curious green eyes had finally turned to her, gleaming with abashed defiance.

Good girls waited their turn, but she had always been better at taking.

And so, with panting breaths, flushed cheeks, and eager shared touches that proved far too chaste and fleeting, she did.

* * *

By fifth year, Tamsin had mastered the art of turning the unworthy into stone. She had snatched her throne, whilst they preened themselves on false claims and boasts of being the Heir of Slytherin.

When they finally took heed, it was too late, and she took the greatest glee in crushing whomever got too close beneath her foot. What were heels made for, after all, except to add knives to the arsenal of innocence?

She felt clenched fists against her shirt, and saw how other girls were monsters too. Beautiful, hungry beasts, but her pretty mouth snarled for a better world and softer things.

And she understood, for the first time, that to be Medusa was to be alone.

* * *

By sixth year, Tamsin was the undisputed sovereign of the shadows, and the empress of her court.

Plans had to be made, because a small slice of it would never be enough. Life lived secondhand was not life, and she could not bear the thought of watching it slip past her through death, or because life was busy on the other side of the secretary's desk.

She was no longer a girl. She was power and potential, and everyone should know to be careful of such wild things. Even Harriet Potter.

And yet, green eyes stared back at the gorgon, unflinching and unfazed.

Maybe her soul had been stone all along.

* * *

By seventh year, a frozen peace had been snatched, yet as all rejoiced, she thirsted for the taste of blood, and for war.

She was not soft. She was not sweet. Her beauty was the fierce lure of a siren, and she would summon all who would listen to her call.

If a Lady had to be twice as good as a Lord, then it was just as well she'd found the twin that her very name prophesied. The challenge would rejuvenate her.

They were sitting on the edge of the Black Lake, fingers discreetly entwined.

It was their graduation ceremony in half an hour, and the sun was beginning to set.

She'd taken what she wanted, and now nothing would stand in her way.


End file.
